ad to
tell me. Try and rest a little now and meanwhile be assured that I am
doing all I can to find out the truth of this matter. As far as I can
tell now I do not believe that you have killed John Siders. But I must
find some further proofs that will convince others as well as myself. If
it is of any comfort to you, I can tell you that during a long career as
police detective I have been most astonishingly fortunate in the cases I
have undertaken. I am hoping that my usual good luck will follow me here
also. I am hoping it for your sake."

The man on the cot took the hand the detective offered him and
pressed it firmly. "You will let me know as soon as you have found
anything--anything that gives me hope?"

"I will indeed. And now save your strength and do not worry. I will help
you if it is in my power."

After leaving the prison, Muller took the train for the village of
Grunau, about half an hour distant from the city. He found his way
easily to Graumann's home, an attractive old house set in a large garden
amid groups of beautiful old trees. When he sent up his card to Miss
Graumann, the old lady tripped down stairs in a flutter of excitement.

"Did you see him?" she asked. "You have been to the prison? What do you
think? How does he seem?"

"He seems calm to-day," replied Muller, "although the confinement and
the anxiety are evidently wearing on him."

"And you heard his story? And you believe him innocent?"

"I am inclined to do so. But there is more yet for me to investigate in
this matter. It is certainly not as simple as the police here seem to
believe. May I speak to your ward, Miss Roemer? She is at home now?"

"Yes, Lora is at home. If you will wait here a moment I will send her
in."

Muller paced up and down the large sunny room, casting a glance over the
handsome old pieces of furniture and the family portraits on the wall.
It was evidently the home of generations of well-to-do, well-bred
people, the narrow circle of whose life was made rich by congenial
duties and a comfortable feeling of their standing in the community.

While he was studying one of the portraits more carefully, he became
aware that there was some one in the room. He turned and saw a tall
blond girl standing by the door. She had entered so softly that even
Muller's quick ear had not heard the opening of the door.

"Do you wish to speak to me?" she said, coming down into the room. "I am
Eleonora Roemer"

Her face, which cou